


A Portrait of the Ribcage and Her Heart

by wtfoctagon



Series: Code Vein continuity where everyone's at least a little bit gay [3]
Category: Code Vein (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Choking, Delayed Aftercare, Dweller in the Dark | Good Ending (Code Vein), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Light BDSM, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, Passing Mention Of Past Abuse, Praise Kink, Relationship Discussions, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Trans Female Character, Vaginal Sex, alternatively titled: a portrait of two imperfect people having a very human relationship, man i just wanted to write vampire milf porn why is this 14k words, minor discussions of the implications of being a trans vampire, the rest of it is them being very in love and trying their best, they only really have sex for half of the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28792878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfoctagon/pseuds/wtfoctagon
Summary: And that warrants being a little lovestruck over, doesn’t it? They’re not soulmates by any stretch of the definition— in another universe where the world never ended, Aurora is happily married to someone who had known their own heart well enough to give it away, and Karen is still embarking on the lifelong endeavour to learn to live with her own imperfections.No, they weren’t meant for each other— but Aurora has consistently chosen to be with her, at every juncture of their lives, and maybe that means something more.
Relationships: Karen/Aurora Valentino
Series: Code Vein continuity where everyone's at least a little bit gay [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109273
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	A Portrait of the Ribcage and Her Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic with an original title instead of song lyrics, would you look at that?
> 
> this fic was still heavily guided by music, though, like everything else I write. here's the playlist I put together and used to capture the vibes while writing (the sweet bits, anyway! don't ask me about the porn songs thank you <3)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0peHFLZ2iBcHXjgXMVNmuu?si=P-U2kxMCRyWADqpAf_LweA
> 
> anyway, you don't need to have read anything else before this-- just know that karen and aurora started dating after the good ending, and eventually moved out of the cathedral to set up their own home base in a mostly-intact opera house just down the street

_and so, she wreathed herself around the heart and vowed to stay steadfast against the world; but did she know? did anyone tell her? that the silent heart sent out her love with every pulse, praying that it would somehow find its way to her marrow._

* * *

“You know, as much as I appreciate Louis finding our old apartment for us,” Aurora sighs, opening up another cardboard box. “We really don’t have space for all of this.”

Karen laughs, dusting off another book before she scouts for a place to squeeze it in on their rapidly overfilling shelves. “Don’t look at me, most of this is your stuff. My half of our closet got obliterated.”

“A blessing in disguise, I’m sure,” Aurora snorts as she opens another folder of papers and receipts. “Oh god, is this all our tax documentation?” 

“Ah, taxes. I remember them,” Karen grunts, stretching onto her tiptoes to try and shove the paperback into a gap between a row of books and the top of the bookshelf. 

Aurora scoffs. “I’m surprised you do, considering I had to do them all for you every year,” she grumbles, tossing the receipts in the trash as she starts flipping through the papers. 

“What can I say? I spent the first fourteen years of my life in a sensible country that didn’t force you to file information they already had.” She dusts her hands off triumphantly as she pulls away from the neatly slotted book. “I don’t have the patience for that kind of thing.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you.” 

“I will, thank you.”

“Brat,” Aurora sneers despite her grin as she tosses the folder and opens up the next one. 

Karen gives her an exaggerated wink as she grabs another book to add to the jigsaw puzzle of their personal library. “Ti _amo,_ cara _mi-_ a,” she adds, using a cartoonishly over-the-top italian accent.

 _“Don’t,”_ Aurora says, eyes wide in warning before she breaks down into chortles that are more resigned groans than laughter. “Oh my _god,_ please, no. I told you about how my first girlfriend tried to use italian during sex, right?”

Karen gasps in horrified delight. “No _way._ Are you serious?”

“Uh huh. She thought she was being romantic. I wilted like a dry carrot.”

She cackles into the book cover, falling backwards onto a chair as she loses her breath. “That’s— that might be one of the funniest things you’ve told me, oh my god?”

“I’m glad my pain is your pleasure,” Aurora sighs, tossing yet another folder of useless things. “It was _so_ awkward asking her to please not because it just makes me think of my mega-catholic super-italian grandmother.” 

Karen’s still laughing. “Oh my god. Hey, do you think we should make that our new safeword?” 

“It would work like a charm if you want me to lose my libido for the rest of the week!” she declares with mock cheeriness, squinting at an old paper form. “Okay, I recognize your name, but I can’t read anything else on this.” She walks over to Karen, holding the paper out for her to take. “Why do you have a medical form from a Japanese hospital?”

“That’s a good question, actually…” Karen frowns at it too, trying to jog her memory before screwing up her face. “What was I doing at a plastic surgery clinic in Kyoto?”

“Wait, I remember that. You went for a reduction mammaplasty consultation in… what was it, 2048? It was cheaper over there because you still had insurance from your internship there, or something like that.” 

Karen raises her brows, flipping to the other side of the form. “Oh, wow, I actually went in for a consultation?” She laughs. “My aunt must have been fuming.”

Aurora quirks a brow at her, trying to hold a half-exploded binder together. “Do you really think you would have told her?”

“Oh, you know. She always had an uncanny talent for sticking her nose into my business no matter how much I tried to get away from her,” she says rolling her eyes. “It says February ‘49 here, actually, with an appointment set for July. Huh.” She sets the paper down. “Wonder why I didn’t go.”

“I think that was right around the time we got approved for funding on the BOR project,” Aurora muses idly, giving up on the binder and letting it spill over the couch so she could go through the contents one by one. “I doubt we would have been let out of the country.”

“And then the world ended, yeah.” Karen stares at the form for a few more seconds before shrugging as she turns back towards the box of books. “Well, I guess I don’t need it anymore.”

Aurora snorts. “I guess revenant super-strength came in handy, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, picking out clothes is still a nightmare,” she says, grimacing at a paperback that falls apart in her hands before she tosses it into the pile of the other unsalvageable ones. “But at least it’s not screwing up my spine.” 

Aurora hums affirmatively. It’s the last sound before they fall into a companionable lull in the conversation, sorting through their respective piles of junk from their old life.

* * *

“If I got surgery,” Aurora wonders aloud later that afternoon, “do you think it would all just grow back the next time I had to regenerate?”

Karen stops for a moment, replacing her mouth with her hand as she looks up at Aurora. “Why, have you been thinking about it?”

“I was just reminded of it, while we were talking earlier. Not that I could get it any—” her breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as her hands fist in the sheets at the edge of the bed. “Anytime soon, what with how everything is, but…” 

She trails off with a shuddering sigh and Karen leans her head against the inside of Aurora’s leg, stroking idly with one hand while bringing her other one up and around to trace soft patterns along the top of Aurora’s thigh.

“But you want to, eventually?” 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” she breathes. “How— ah— how are your knees doing?”

Karen rolls her eyes. “Perks of technically being dead include not having to worry about sore knees during oral,” she deadpans.

“Yes, but—” Aurora gasps. “I feel like— I should’ve gotten you a cushion or something.”

“You’re such a worrywart,” she snorts, but slows down anyway. “Do you want me to go get the toys instead?”

Aurora blinks at her. “Not particularly— why do you ask?”

“If you’ve been thinking about bottom surgery lately…”

“Oh. Oh, no—” she laughs. “I haven’t felt dysphoric for years now, you know that.”

Karen shrugs, letting her hand still to a stop with only her thumb stroking lightly. “It’s not impossible for it to flare up suddenly, even if it’s been a while,” she murmurs into Aurora’s thigh before pressing a soft kiss. “And I’d rather you be one-hundred percent comfortable.”

And then Aurora gives her a warm smile— her very favourite out of all of Aurora’s smiles, where the corners of her eyes crinkle unabashedly and her brows crease just the slightest bit. 

(Karen still remembers the first time she saw it. Three am on a saturday, stranded in the sprawling jungle of textbooks and notes on her bed, falling in love while Aurora handed her the best cup of coffee she’d ever had in her entire _fucking_ life.)

“I appreciate your concern, Dr. Amamiya,” Aurora teases, reaching over to tangle her fingers into Karen’s free hand. “But I’m sure. I’m not actually uncomfortable, I just find it inconvenient at times. And… well. It gets in the way, inevitably. Ideally, I wouldn’t have to have to choose between getting to hold you close and not getting… chafed.”

Aurora laughs as she settles on that last word, and Karen hides a snort against her leg before nipping lightly as she starts stroking again. She _tries_ not to squish her dick during missionary— but Aurora tends to get needy and affectionate when Karen’s already holding her down and blowing her back out with a strap, grabbing and pulling and begging to be held in a pitch that drives Karen _wild._

“Just wish it was detachable or something,” she sighs, moaning softly when Karen sucks lightly at the tip, still steadily working her hand up and down. “It’d be nice t-to be able to take it off without— _mmph—_ doing so per— _h—_ permanently—”

Karen quirks a brow at her as she lets go to kiss her way up the underside of the shaft, unlacing her fingers from Aurora’s to grip her waist instead.

“Dildos exist, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, but I’m… rather impartial to being able to— to feel—”

She cuts off with a moan when Karen closes her lips around the tip again, digging her nails into her waist. 

“To feel it when I do this?” Karen drawls in a low voice as she slowly, slowly takes the entirety of Aurora’s length in her mouth, keeping eye contact.

 _“Oh—”_ Aurora presses a fist against her whimper, her entire body shuddering as she whiteknuckles the edge of the mattress with her other hand. _“Mm—!”_

Karen lets her go just as slowly as she took her in, keeping her eyes on Aurora’s the entire time. She’s so cute like this— gasping while her lithe frame quivers, unruly hair slipping over her shoulders as she buckles in on herself, entirely at Karen’s mercy.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she purrs, prying Aurora’s hand from the bed to place it on the back of her head instead. “Feel free to grab me as hard as you like.”

She likes to remind her, even if she never does— the most she ever does is tangle her fingers into Karen’s hair as gently as she does when they’re just making out. She’s so goddamn _careful_ not to hurt Karen, even when her voice starts breaking as Karen starts blowing her in earnest: taking her in all the way before pulling out to the tip and back again, getting faster and faster in increments. 

“Oh, _god—”_ her grip tightens, but it still barely stings at all. “K-Karen, I—” 

To be perfectly honest, the idea of Aurora yanking on her hair hard enough to _actually_ hurt and facefucking her until she can’t breathe is rather nice— but she hasn’t really gotten around to bringing it up yet. When they finally started dating, Aurora couldn’t even bring herself to hold onto Karen instead of the bed— it took a month or so for her to feel like she was allowed to grab Karen as hard as she actually wanted to. 

Nowadays, her holding onto Karen for dear life is nearly a nightly occurrence. But Karen still remembers that look of fear the first time she accidentally dug her nails into Karen’s arm— blue eyes wide, her entire body coiled to jump away as far as possible. It… sucks, honestly. Knowing that she’s that afraid. But Karen knows it’s not her place to complain— not when she’s the one who did this to Aurora in the first place. After the first time they talked about it, Aurora had fallen into a ‘best friends with unrequited feelings’ dynamic with practiced ease, and Karen had just… let her. Let her redefine what she was and wasn’t allowed to do with Karen, what she was and wasn’t allowed to feel— Karen had watched her put up a mental block on her ability to touch Karen and she just… didn’t do anything about it. 

She’d fix it when they were finally dating, she told herself. And then she put it off until the world ended and they had to fight for their lives for the next fifteen years.

 _“Ah—_ oh, oh god I—” Aurora tangles her other hand into Karen’s hair as well, still holding her in a shaking, tender grip, even while her chest heaves as her hips jerk. “K- _Karen,_ please—”

Her voice breaks into a cry, as her hair falls around them when she coils in on herself, bracing one of her heels against the bottom of the bedframe. Karen grabs onto her hips with both hands, forcing her to stay in place as she goes harder— trading depth for speed, sucking in rapid, shallow thrusts while Aurora starts to unravel around her. 

“Karen, w—” she gasps, voice rising in pitch. “Wait, I’m— I’m about to—”

Karen languidly pulls away, gently rubbing her fingertips over the marks she’s left on Aurora’s skin. 

“You make the loveliest sounds, you know that?” she murmurs, kissing up the hollow of her left hip. Aurora whimpers breathlessly at that— and when Karen looks up, her cheeks are flushed, her pupils are blown wide, and she’s biting her lip in that way that makes Karen feel _ravenous._ “Lie down for me.”

She does so shakily, sliding herself back onto the large towel stretched over the bed as Karen pushes herself to her feet and takes off her shirt. 

“Sorry about the sports bra,” she says wryly, pulling her panties off before she climbs onto the bed as well. “All my nice stuff is in the laundry right now.”

“That’s— completely fine, you don’t have to apologize at all?” Aurora says emphatically, her legs still shaking a little as she piles their extra throw cushions against the headboard before settling back against them. 

“I know I don’t,” Karen chirps, kneeing her way across the bed to straddle her. “But I do love how flustered you get when I’m wearing lace.” 

“As if you need lace to do that…”

Karen laughs at the indignant grumble, settling just over Aurora’s thighs as she runs her fingertips along the crease of her hips. This is one of her favourite views: Aurora, on her back, flushed all the way from her cheeks to her chest and looking just a little bit ravished, long hair thrown all over the sheets with her dick all sweet and swollen and still wet as it lies on her navel. 

“You’re staring,” she mutters, face half covered by her forearm slung over it. 

Karen smiles as she leans forward on her hands to kiss her just between her breasts, mouthing sideways before she lightly closes her teeth around a nipple. Aurora sighs, placing her hands on Karen’s shoulders— Karen kisses her way up past her clavicles and throat and finally to her lips.

“Am I not allowed?” she murmurs against them, biting once before she pulls away and smooths a palm over Aurora’s stomach. “You look so good like this.”

It’s far from the first time she’s said it in the seven months they’ve been dating, but somehow it still makes her blush so delightfully as she turns her face towards the cushions. Karen chuckles softly as she pulls one of Aurora’s hands up to kiss the back of it. 

“God, you’re cute,” she murmurs against it before letting Aurora have it back as she shuffles farther up the bed. 

The broken gasp that Aurora takes in when Karen settles down onto the underside of her cock is, frankly, electrifying. She arches off the bed for a second, and Karen takes that chance to run a finger from her sternum down to her navel.

“Y-you’re—” Aurora keens, hands fisting into the cushions. “You’re _so—”_

“Wet?” Karen laughs, moving her hips up and down along the length of it, palm braced against Aurora’s ribs as her breath starts to pick up just the tiniest bit. She’s burning hot and rock hard and Karen’s trying not to let it drive her _too_ wild. “You’re so surprised every time.”

“Because I—” she bites down another moan, writhing. “I’ve barely done anything for you yet…!”

Her breath catches as Karen scrapes her nails along her skin, gyrating in slow, measured movements. “Do you really think I’d be totally unaffected,” she murmurs, “sitting there, listening to you make your pretty little noises for me?”

A muffled, shuddering sigh is the only answer she gets— she just smirks and pulls Aurora’s hands out from underneath the cushions so that she can hold her wrists down on top of them, leaning down to kiss her deeply. Aurora moans around her tongue and _god,_ it’s all Karen can do to keep her pace when she’s so slick and burning hot against her clit. 

How many times had she fantasized about being able to do this, when they were still human? Those long nights, poring over one project or another, when Aurora would finally get sick of her hair and pile it up high in the laziest, most haphazard topknot Karen had ever seen. She’d make fun of her for being one of those messy pineapple head white girls and Aurora would half-heartedly throw a pen at her, eyes twinkling with affection even though she barely looked up from her laptop. 

But when they finally retired for the night, Karen would bite her fist and fuck herself raw thinking about the way she could see Aurora’s nipples poking through the thin fabric of her oversized crop top, the way it slipped off her shoulder to show the faint freckles trailing over her clavicles and down towards her cleavage, the way the waistband of her underwear was stretched taut between her hipbones while her loose sweatpants rode down… 

What an awful person she was. She was jacking off to the girl that she’d already turned down, hoping she was doing the same— and when Aurora would come home with a hickey or some lipstick smudged on her collar Karen would throw herself into her work, barely eating or sleeping just to get away from how _sick_ it made her feel. 

And she didn’t _mean_ to monopolize Aurora’s attention when she did that, she never _planned_ for her to put everything aside so she could take care of Karen because she refused to listen when she begged her to take better care of herself. But intentions only go so far now, don’t they? She doesn’t get to use the excuse that she hadn’t _intended_ to sabotage Aurora’s love life, not when her little episodes always coincided with when Aurora would start seeing someone. Not when Aurora’s serious relationships only happened when Karen went away on exchange semesters or foreign internships. 

Aurora hums lightly before pulling away, catching her breath as she looks up at Karen.

“Hey,” she whispers, “what’s wrong?”

Karen slows down a bit, knitting her brows. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“You’re not usually so quiet,” she says, the slightest stutter to her voice. “Is— is everything okay?”

The urge to tease her and gloss over it by doing something else to distract her is strong, because Aurora would see through it but still let her do it— she sighs, letting go of her wrists to bury her face in the crook of her neck, bracing herself against the bed by her forearms instead.

“Just frustrated with myself again,” she says, kissing and biting as she continues to grind slowly. “We could have been doing this years ago if I wasn’t such an idiot about everything.” 

“Don’t say that,” Aurora breathes, sweet and loving even with the soft moan in the back of her every breath. “You weren’t ready, there’s—” she sighs— “there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Mmph.” Karen hums against her throat. “I was, though, that’s the worst part.” Aurora wraps her arms around her shoulders, drawing small circles into the nape of her neck in time with her movements. “I was jerking myself off thinking about you in the shower while you were only one room away.” 

Aurora twitches and gets a bit harder— Karen laughs and kisses her again, biting her lower lip when she huffs indignantly. 

“I kept telling myself,” she continues, kissing Aurora’s jaw as she turns the pace up one small notch, “one more semester, one more project, one more internship before I’d have the time to have a relationship.” She groans as Aurora’s hips start rocking with her, against her. “And it took the world ending for me to realize I was making you wait because I was never satisfied with myself.”

And Aurora’s just panting softly, gently playing with Karen’s hair as they move together. “That counts as not being ready— you realize that, right?” she says quietly. “You had to work through that first.”

Karen sighs. “You’re right. I guess I just… can’t stop thinking about how selfish I acted,” she snorts lightly, nuzzling into Aurora. “You had every right to find something better with other people— and I was so jealous all the time. The fact that I have the gall to be relieved I didn’t miss my chance is just…”

“Mmn. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Aurora pants against Karen’s hair. 

Karen huffs. “I almost wish you were angrier at me for it,” she murmurs, trailing off with a low moan as her clit drags over Aurora _just_ right.

“I— god— I know you,” she stutters, arms tightening around Karen’s shoulders. “I get it.”

What a concept— being known, being loved. She bites down on Aurora’s shoulder, letting the way she cries out zing down her spine before pushing against the bed to sit upright.

“You’re too good to me,” she says. She doesn’t deserve it. But she will. She _will_ earn it, she swears. “I love you.”

“I love you t— _h—”_ Aurora arches as Karen slots her to her entrance, easing the tip inside. _“Ahn—”_

Karen’s eyes flutter shut as she tries to lower herself slowly. Not that there’s any resistance— she’s basically dripping all over Aurora, it’d be so easy to slam down and start riding Aurora within an inch of her life. Tempting, too, but she’s in more of a savoring mood tonight. She takes it steadily, inch by inch, groaning as Aurora fills her up and barely leaves any space for her lungs.

“Oh, _Karen—”_ Aurora’s voice is _so_ high and airy right now, her chest heaving. “You feel _so_ good…”

 _“You_ feel so good,” Karen shoots back, shaking as she settles down fully on Aurora. “I can literally feel you pulsing,” she laughs breathlessly, “you’re going to pop the second I start moving, huh?”

Aurora huffs at her, eyes squeezed shut with her head thrown back onto the cushions as she tries to catch her breath. “Give me a break, you’ve been edging me this whole time…”

“Fair enough. You’ve been so good about it, too.” She reaches for Aurora’s hands with both of her own and laces their fingers together. “Feel free to finish whenever you like.”

Despite her teasing, she _doesn’t_ climax as soon as Karen moves— she lets out strangled cries, grips Karen’s hands like lifelines, but holds on valiantly as Karen pulls out to the tip before pushing back down, and then repeats in a steady rhythm. Her delicate frame trembles with the effort, twisting and writhing against the bed— it’s cute and endearing and it only makes Karen want to misbehave even more. She puts her hips into the motions, staying to grind languidly against Aurora before she pulls up, angling herself so that Aurora’s pushing against her walls and—

The way Aurora keens is _harrowing_ and _desperate._ _“Nn—_ I’m—”

“Go on,” Karen coaxes sweetly, breath hitching in the back of her throat. “Give it to me.”

And that does the job— Karen can feel her convulsing and spurting warmly inside her as her back arches off the bed, fingers digging into the backs of Karen’s hands— 

_“Oh—”_ she twitches and bucks as the orgasm jolts through her, letting out shallow, shuddering sighs. “O-oh, god…”

Karen rocks against her gently through the last waves. The way Aurora whimpers is _exquisite_ — Karen lets go of her hands, palming over her stomach again as she watches her wind down.

“Lasted as long as I could,” Aurora croaks, halfway through a limp groan and a laugh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not done with you yet.”

Her eyelids flutter shut for a moment when Aurora jerks a bit into her again at that, as if involuntarily. She just laughs, still caressing Aurora all over as she lets her melt against the cushions, humming as she continues to ride in tiny, tender movements. It’s always nice to linger a bit like this, savoring the feel of Aurora’s climax still trapped inside her, slowly coating her walls and Aurora’s length as she grinds lazily.

“Mm. Do you ever feel that being a revenant is kind of… cheating, in a sense?” she asks, gingerly fondling one of Aurora’s breasts.

Aurora, for her part, just smooths her palms over Karen’s thighs, leaning into Karen’s hands. “I…” Her eyes are still closed while she furrows her brows to think. “It’s literally cheating death, but I get the feeling that’s not what you meant.”

“Well… you know how in old vampire stories, immortality came at the price of being a lot more dead?” She leans back, using Aurora’s folded legs as a backrest while pumping her hips lightly. “No heartbeat, no breathing, etcetera.” 

“Mhm.” Aurora kneads the top of her thighs in affectionate squeezes, nodding. “Ah… I see what you mean. Revenants more or less retain most of our biological functions while being free of the consequences.” 

Such eloquent, coherent words, barely a minute after she came— it’s so charming that it makes Karen want to mess her up all over again, but she commits to taking it easy for now. “Yeah. We have fully functional genitals when it comes to recreational sex, but don’t have to worry about birth control.”

It occurs to her that this probably isn’t the sexiest pillow talk— but then again, Aurora started it. It’s almost a compulsion to follow along when one of them starts talking like they’re in a meeting. 

“Fortunately for us,” Aurora laughs, “given how every single condom in the world must have expired _years_ ago.”

Karen chuckles along, tracing small patterns into Aurora’s navel. “Not just that. I don’t have to worry about periods or running out of the pill ever again.” 

“Good timing, too, things were getting a little dicey with prescription supply after the Thorns tore everything up.” Aurora huffs, pushing a bit of hair out of her face. “You know what, you’re right, actually. I was grateful enough that I could keep my hormone levels where they were without having access to a regular supply, but none of the bad side effects even apply anymore. That kind of feels… too good to be true.”

“Right? No more nausea or mood swings…”

“Or having to pee every two seconds,” Aurora snorts. Karen laughs with her, leaning forward again to kiss her as she starts grinding just a tiny bit harder. 

“No more shaving or plucking,” she sighs, biting at Aurora’s lower lip. “Actually, hair stays gone once you get rid of it, that might answer your original question.”

Aurora wraps her arms around Karen, rubbing her back adoringly as they have their murmured conversation into their kisses. “Yes, but severed limbs and extremities regenerate after dispersal. We’d have to look into it a bit more— and I’d rather we focus on our current projects.” She flicks her tongue over Karen’s lip before pressing firmly while her fingers trace patterns on Karen’s shoulderblades. “It was only a hypothetical. I’m not all that hung up on it.”

“You’re not that—” Karen turns her face away as she snorts. “That _hung_ up on it?”

Aurora’s arms flop back onto the bed rather pointedly. _“Wow.”_

Karen buries her snickers into Aurora’s shoulder as she starfishes completely in exasperation, and Karen can almost hear her roll her eyes as hard as possible.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she giggles, kissing her way up Aurora’s throat, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

Aurora brings her arms up to hold her again, grumbling, “somehow I doubt that.”

“Fair.” Karen noses along her jawline. “But you’re into it.”

She can feel Aurora’s smile against her mouth when she makes her way up to kiss her again. 

“I am.”

And then they go back to just… _enjoying_ each other. Arms wrapped in a gentle embrace, making out slowly while they languidly rock with their hips slotted together. It’s warm, soft, loving and maybe even a little domestic, in a way. It’s so much of everything Karen pretended that she couldn’t have for so long, part of her almost wants to stay like this for the rest of the night: wrapped around Aurora everywhere, savouring her every breath. 

But Aurora starts getting erect inside her again, pressing against her front wall as they gyrate and Karen swirls her moan around Aurora’s tongue before pulling back.

“Do you still want to continue?” She asks, propping herself up on her palms to give some breathing space. 

Aurora scoffs at her affectionately, running her hands up and down the sides of Karen’s waist. “I thought you weren’t done with me?”

“Only because I know you like it when I’m demanding,” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded as she drinks in the sight of all the bruises she’s left along Aurora’s skin. “But if you want to stop for the evening, I can just finish myself off while you’re in the shower.”

“You say that as if you can’t feel me getting hard again,” she sighs, fondling Karen’s thighs and hips. Karen hums quietly, enjoying the feeling of her slightly callused hands. 

(And maybe it’s odd for her to be so enamoured with the fact that they’re rough around the same edges— years of handling stationery and equipment have left a mark on their hands, though hers are much less shapely and delicate than Aurora’s.)

“That’s hardly grounds for consent, is it?” she teases. “I just wanted to check in.”

Aurora smiles, shaking her head. “And you call _me_ a worrywart. Yes, as long as you’re fine with it, I’d like to continue with what we had planned…?”

“Your wish is my command.” She sits up to grab her wristwatch from the nightstand. “You remember our safewords?”

Aurora nods. “Stoplight system.”

“Be a good girl and do a verbal rundown for me,” she purrs, buckling the leather strap just loose enough to be able to stick a few fingers between her wrist and the underside of the watch. 

Aurora takes in a shaky breath at the pet name, as always. “Red for a complete and immediate stop, yellow to slow down or go softer, and green to start up again.”

“And if you can’t talk, what do you do?” she asks, gently laying her cuffed hand over Aurora’s neck without applying any pressure.

Aurora’s throat bobs against her palm as she swallows harshly. “Tap the face of your watch three times for caution, tug on it to stop.”

 _“Very_ good,” she praises, leaning down to give Aurora a sweet kiss. “Thank you, baby.”

She can almost see Aurora’s pulse thrumming against her chest. “You don’t have to check every time, you know,” she laughs nervously. “I think it’s pretty well-established by now.”

Karen just gives her an indulgent, lavish smile. “It’s called protocol, Dr. Valentino,” she reprimands warmly. “Are you ready? I’m going to start.”

“Please do,” is the whispered plea as Aurora closes her eyes. Karen presses _just_ hard enough that she can feel Aurora’s pulse pounding against her hand— Aurora keens, grasping Karen’s arm as she makes these brittle and breaking noises and oh, if that doesn’t make Karen want to _devour_ her. 

Sure, at first, Karen wasn’t sure about bringing their… rather _interesting_ discoveries on the effects of asphyxiation on revenants into the bedroom. Too many things could go wrong— and yes, she was aware that Aurora was the one to suggest it in the first place, but it honestly felt too much like taking advantage of her while she was in an altered state of mind. Aurora, for her part, had simply kissed Karen and said that they would shelve it if it made her uncomfortable. Without even the slightest suggestion of disappointment, too, the immaculate partner that she is. 

It was only a week after that initial discussion that she changed her mind. Not that it took very much— she was minding her business, rearranging Aurora’s guts with their second biggest strap, when Aurora bucked hard enough that she actually lost her balance and fell forward, accidentally landing with her forearm across Aurora’s throat. Aurora seized up, made a noise Karen had _never_ heard before, came so hard that a few flecks actually hit Karen’s face— and that, was simply that. 

“That’s all you need to get rock hard again, isn’t it?” she taunts softly as she squeezes, starting a steady rhythm of slow, shallow thrusts. “It didn’t even take a second.”

Aurora growls harshly, clawing into Karen’s arm, grimacing with such sweet desperation. Karen bites down on her lip as she watches Aurora struggle, going deeper and deeper with each thrust— she’s so swollen and hot, Karen feels each hit stoke the coiling heat in her gut.

The first stage of asphyxiation isn’t all that different from the effect on humans— mild discomfort and pain, lightheadedness, etcetera. The only real difference is with the BOR parasite’s anxiety response to the sudden lack of oxygen, best described as a subtle tingling throughout the entire nervous system.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be so hypocritical,” she drawls, starting to pant lightly. “Can you feel how wet I’m getting?”

Aurora cries out, digging her fingers into Karen’s thighs as she fights her own instinct to break free— the pain of it shoots straight through Karen’s gut and up her spine. 

It was gratifying and really _fucking_ hot when Aurora admitted that she wanted to get as rough with Karen as Karen got with her— she just could never work up the nerves to do so, apparently. Hence her enthusiasm for this method— which, Karen still feels should have been the first thing she mentioned when she brought the whole thing up. How in the hell would she have said no to this? This hungry, careless way that she grabs at Karen, not an ounce of anxiety in her ragged breathing as she _hurts_ Karen so _good?_

 _“Oh,_ god, you make me so wild, you know that?” she gasps, taking Aurora with long strokes, bracing her other hand against Aurora’s shoulder. “Helpless for me like this— _ah—”_

She tightens her hold, and Aurora lets out this ripped up howl that makes Karen’s knees go _weak._ It’s all she can do not to start riding with all she has, take as much of Aurora as she _fucking_ wants to—

“You feel so incredible, baby,” she whines, feeling her legs start to shake. “My pretty, _pretty_ girl—” mewling, she gropes one of Aurora’s breasts with her free hand, pinching the nipple between her index and middle fingers while Aurora’s pulse thrums through the soft mound like a little songbird in Karen’s palm. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?”

 _“Yes—”_ Aurora cries somewhere between a sob and a roar, the tones of her voice echoing with that otherworldly double intonation that only comes with the use of ichor. 

The second stage of oxygen deprivation is setting in: moderate pain, glowing red eyes, and elongated fangs that mirror the activation of a blood veil. 

_“Beg,”_ Karen purrs, even as she starts riding even faster. “Beg for me, darling, I want to hear you—”

 _“Please—”_ Aurora strains against her hand, eyes flaring crimson. _“Please— please, I want you—!”_

Karen can hardly bear the way her irises glow like that. Yes, she loves Aurora’s natural eyes— they’re usually such a soft grey-blue that reminds Karen of the moment before a rainstorm clears— but this… this _starving_ shade of red makes her feel like she’s on the verge of being torn apart. 

And she _loves_ it.

 _“I want you—”_ Aurora growls, chest heaving as Karen pounds against her. _“I want you, please, I need you—”_

Maybe one day Karen will be better at keeping Aurora on the edge like this— for much longer, drawing it out, driving her as far as possible. But not today. Today, she can barely keep her own breathing in check when Aurora begs like that— she’s only just keeping a coherent train of thought, fighting to keep her head above water.

“Then take me,” she says, voice pitched high in the back of her throat. “I’m—”

She doesn't get to finish her sentence because Aurora grabs her hips and _slams_ up into her— she wails as she falls forward, nearly losing her grip on her throat. The way Aurora’s holding her in place while brutally plowing into her is _definitely_ drawing blood and her legs are shaking so bad she can barely keep herself from slipping. 

_“Yes!”_ she cries, grabbing onto Aurora’s throat with her other hand as well, mostly to steady herself against the onslaught— _“oh,_ yes, like that— you’re doing so good, baby, you feel so good—”

It’s getting harder and harder to form words as Aurora rams her at such a punishing pace that she’s having trouble breathing. Whining, wailing, she tries to keep as tight a hold around her neck as possible while Aurora fucks her to pieces—

“You’re so good,” she mewls desperately, voice shaking from the force of the thrusts— “you’re _so_ good, baby—” she cries, trying to hold on. “My pretty baby, my _beautiful_ girl— you’re so incredible—” 

Aurora snarls, arching upwards and slamming even _harder—_ Karen _quakes_ for her, moaning, crying, trying her best not to collapse as she watches Aurora’s eyes because she knows she’s not going to last much longer.

The third stage sets in with zero warning. Aurora’s sclera go jet black and her irises burn with blood— with a roar, she rips Karen’s hands off her throat and forces her onto her back as she holds her down, _railing_ her at lightning speed.

Karen screams as Aurora sinks her teeth into her neck. She can’t feel her legs, she can’t feel _anything_ but Aurora drilling her into the bed, snarling and growling right into her ear. 

_“Y-es!”_ she sobs, clawing at Aurora’s back while she thrashes mindlessly, hardly breathing, unable to stop the moans and screams that Aurora’s pounding out of her— _“fuck me— fuck me like that, just like that— ahn—!”_ Aurora’s teeth are tearing at her skin and she can hear the bedframe cracking against the wall but she doesn’t _care. “Oh, Aurora, yes— Aurora, baby, I love you— hurt me, ruin me—”_

And then she does. It starts with sparks bursting in her vision before they shoot down her spine, burning through every nerve inside her and making her writhe against Aurora— but Aurora doesn’t stop, still rutting so hard that her body flares into another desperate nova, then another, and another…

By the time she can form thoughts in a human language again, Aurora’s lying limp against her, panting just as hard, her hair blanketing over them both. Karen can feel her climax leaking out of her before dribbling down onto the towel— she idly wonders how many times Aurora herself ended up coming as she tries to calm her jackhammering heartrate.

“Nngh.” Aurora is the first to stir, shakily propping herself on her elbows. Karen feels her move to pull out and presses a hand against the base of her spine, sighing petulantly. 

“Mm. Stay?”

Aurora just gives her a half-tortured, half-exasperated look as she acquiesces and settles her hips back down as she gives her a kiss. 

“Are you okay?” she whispers against Karen’s mouth. “Did I hurt you?”

Karen laughs, gathering all of Aurora’s hair to sweep it to the side, uncovering her back. “Not more than I wanted you to,” she says, running one hand over Aurora’s collarbones before cradling her jaw. “And you? Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“My back stings, but otherwise… yeah,” she says sheepishly. “A lot.”

“Good,” Karen hums, placing her hand at the very top of the gashes she left on Aurora’s skin. “I’m glad.”

And then she takes the open wounds from her— starting from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, leaning up to kiss Aurora through the slow tingling of her skin knitting back together as she feels her own back gently tear open in tandem.

She rubs the smooth skin once over again for good measure before pulling away with a smile.

Aurora watches her with half-lidded eyes— now back to their usual rainy blue— tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But you like it,” she murmurs, taking Aurora’s hand and placing it over her chest. “And so do I.”

In a way, it’s simple revenant mechanics— a transference of wounds, and the stimulation of the BOR parasite to trigger a regeneration process. But as Karen presses Aurora’s hand against the creature housed in her heart that’s responsible for putting her here, in this moment, entwined with the love of her life— 

She feels holier in this small, intimate ritual than she ever did sleeping at the bottom of the cathedral while weeping sacred tears for what was left of the world.

One heartbeat, and she feels her wounds close up, leaving the rich soreness in her muscles for her to savor. She brings Aurora’s hand up to press a kiss against her knuckles.

“We should do that more often,” she says, dragging her lips along the joints of her fingers. 

Aurora just puffs out a laugh, knitting her brows. “If I can survive it more than once a week,” she groans. “I feel like jello.”

“Yum.” Karen grins with her teeth around one of Aurora’s fingers.

“Oh, don’t start again,” she laughs, pulling her hand away from Karen’s lips to put her own there instead. “I don’t have it in me.”

“Yeah,” Karen says, still grinning. “It’s all in me now.”

Aurora scoffs and rolls her eyes, collapsing against Karen and burying her face in the pillow cover. “You’re awful.”

“I love you too,” she chirps cheerfully, pecking a kiss to the side of her head before sliding her hand under the pillow to prop her head up as she strokes Aurora’s back. “So, tonight’s choice of aftercare is between eucalyptus bath salts and lavender oi—” she stops as her hand comes up against something hard. Strange— Aurora’s usually so diligent about making the bed. “Hey, what’s under your—”

_“No don't—!”_

Aurora’s hiss is just half a second too late. Karen stops dead, staring at the small, blue velvet box in her hand. Then she slowly turns to look at Aurora’s _petrified_ expression. 

“Aurora,” she starts. “What is this?”

She watches some amalgamation of the five stages of grief play out on Aurora’s face like a sped-up opera before she buries her face in the pillow again, letting out an uncharacteristically long and fervent string of curses. 

“Aurora,” she tries again. “If I open this box,” she says, weighing each word like a stone. “Am I going to see a ring?”

More muffled profanities. “Yes,” she grumbles into the pillow. “In my defense, there’s literally no place to hide anything in this stupid opera house— and I know you never make your side of the bed, nevermind touching mine, and it’s not your turn to do the sheets laundry until next week and—”

“Hey,” Karen cuts her off, snaking her fingers into her hair to gently massage her scalp. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry I started prying.”

“No, it’s—” she mutters angrily. “It’s fine. Can we— can we clean up first?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Karen goes to place the box back under the pillow, but Aurora takes it from her hand before she pushes herself off, still not making eye contact.

And it’s a bit… scary, trying to stay calm as Aurora closes herself off like this. Their usual routine after intense sessions involves a lot of touching, a lot of Karen caressing and kissing Aurora everywhere as they clean up together, singing quietly as she washes her mane of hair, wrapping her in soft towels and affirmations before they go to grab a cup of tea and cuddle on the couch. 

Right now, Karen follows quietly into the bathroom as Aurora dumps the box where she usually puts her glasses, silently drawing hot spring water into their bathtub with a slight, unchanging scowl. They wash off separately— Aurora says nothing so neither does Karen. She waits. She gives Aurora her breathing space and waits because that’s what they agreed they’d do in situations like this— she knows Aurora needs her time in her own head, body on autopilot while she sorts through her emotions. She promised she’d do her best to not take it personally because it’s not something that Aurora has a lot of control over, so that’s what she’s doing. She’s doing her best. 

It’s hard. She’s not very good at waiting, at not knowing, not being able to do anything while she waits— her brain still thinks that the worst is yet to come and she needs to act _now,_ make sure Louis doesn’t get the brunt of it. But Aurora is not her aunt, nor anyone else who carved the notion of her inadequacy in the back of her skull. Aurora is her girlfriend, who loves her, who does things she’s not very good at for Karen’s sake, too, so it’s only fair. They meet each other in the middle. It’s what they do.

She lingers in the bathroom a bit after Aurora finishes and leaves, pretending to take extra care towelling off her hair. By the time she exits in her sweatpants and sleepshirt, the emergency stairwell door is open— she follows the trail, stepping out onto their small patio on the last intact part of the roof as quietly as possible.

And Aurora _is_ there, thankfully— wrapped in her long bathrobe, pacing anxiously with the small box clutched in her hands. Her hair is gathered in one simple, hastily done braid, still damp. She’s… beautiful. Tall, lithe, with the setting sun burnishing her brown hair into a deep auburn, she’s the very picture of a movie heroine on the eve of a crisis— Karen wants to fall at her feet and beg her to please, _talk to her,_ tell her what’s wrong.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she says, leaning against the closed door. 

Aurora scoffs, not unkindly, though she continues to pace. “Yes, we do.”

“If it’s easier for you,” Karen tries, “I can pretend I never saw it.”

“And then stress about it for months alone?” Aurora accuses. “I’m not going to do that to you.”

Guilty as charged. She’d like to be better— be a more patient, level-headed person, but the simple fact is that she’s a barely put-together ball of anxiety on her best days and Aurora knows that.

“I would try,” she says. “For you.” 

And that stops Aurora’s pacing— she falters, closing her eyes, before she sighs and turns away towards their makeshift balcony fence.

“You would,” she says, her voice breaking tenderly. A deep breath, and then she tries again. “I’m sorry. None of this is your fault— I’m sorry I’m acting like I’m upset with you. I’m not. I just… I didn’t expect to be doing this tonight.”

A tiny bit of pressure breaks off from around Karen’s chest. “It’s okay. I understand.”

There’s a silence, for a moment, while a soft breeze tugs at Aurora’s braid. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her shoulders sagging. “I just… I want to explain myself, I just don’t know where to start.”

Karen nods, mostly to herself. “How about… when you got it. The box, I mean.”

“A couple of months ago,” Aurora sighs. “I— I bought it from Coco, because she somehow managed to find it intact somewhere and— and I knew I wanted to do this eventually…” she taps the box against her palm a few times. “The box. It was empty when I bought it. What’s inside is…” she gulps. “It was in our stuff, today. I almost threw it out. But I just… I don’t know. I never intended to keep it in the first place— I only had it back then because apparently my grandmother had forgotten to write me out of her will. I was willing to give it up, but then one of my cousins sent me a death threat while trying to contest it, so everyone on the good side of the family helped me keep everything I got just to spite him.” 

Karen takes a few steps closer, leaning against the edge of their worn down patio table. “Is this the one who was a cop?”

Aurora laughs. “Yeah. Asshole,” she says, shaking her head. “Anyway. I… I was going to throw it away when I saw it again today. But then I saw that the diamond had been smashed off and it was just the silver ring and… I started thinking.”

Another pause— Karen waits as Aurora fidgets with the box, gnawing on her bottom lip as she scowls and tries to put her thoughts together. 

“My grandmother was a bigoted, _racist_ hag and I’m glad she’s rotting in the ground,” she snaps, holding her breath before letting it out in a sigh. “But… she _did_ love me, when I was a kid. She showed me the engagement ring her mother had gotten, that she used for her own wedding, that she gave to my dad to use for his, and so on. She said it was going to be my turn next. Wanted me to find the girl of my dreams who made me happy and give this to her. And I guess… there’s still a part of me that wants to keep that side of her with me.” 

(Karen had met Aurora’s grandmother exactly once, during their first year of university— she’d been invited over for Thanksgiving, and then Aurora had refused to ever subject Karen to that ever again. She always said that it was her bare minimum obligation as a friend to prioritize Karen’s right to not be called slurs over her own feelings— but Karen could always see how it hurt her to stay away.)

“So when I saw this thing again, and the garish diamond was gone and it was just this two-hundred year old silver ring, I…” she grimaces, sighing again, even deeper. “I just felt like there was something.. I don’t know, I’m not good at this.”

Karen gets it— there’s a kind of symbolism to it, in a sense. The overdone, conventional parts stripped away, leaving only the essentials— of a ring, of what it means to be family. There’s something poetic about it, even. And yet— it _would_ be hard to come to terms with it, wouldn’t it? Aurora’s grandmother had been anything but kind to her to the very literal, bitter end— Karen doesn’t think she’s incorrect in imagining that a large part of Aurora wants to rip the ring out of the box and throw it into the ruins of the city to never think about it ever again.

But Aurora doesn’t say anything else. Karen waits, watching the sun set behind her silhouette, before walking up slowly— making sure her footsteps can be heard before she wraps her arms around Aurora from behind. 

“You don’t have to decide how you feel about it now,” she murmurs, kissing the nape of Aurora’s neck. “If you’re not sure, we can go find another ring.”

Aurora is rigid in her arms. “You can’t just get engaged to someone you’ve been dating for less than a year.”

Ah— and that’s another aspect of the problem, isn’t it? The timing of it all, the insecurity— Karen kisses along Aurora’s shoulder, trying to ease the tension in her frame. “Then we wait a year. Or two. Or however many you want to,” she whispers, holding Aurora close. “And if you decide you don’t want to do this, that’s okay too.”

“Of _course_ I want to,” Aurora mutters, still tense in Karen’s arms. “You’re the only one I ever thought about giving this to, if I ever did— if you were ever okay with it.”

And that hurts, just a little bit— because as jealous as Karen got, she _did_ want Aurora to be happy, to fall in love, to start building a life with someone who could be there for her in every way she needed. 

(To not waste her time waiting for Karen.)

“Then talk to me,” she pleads into the soft fabric of Aurora’s robe. “Tell me what’s stopping you, and we can figure it out— I can do whatever you need to feel comfortable—”

And that’s when Aurora makes this… this frustrated noise before she breaks away from Karen, taking a few more steps away to hug herself tightly while still turned away. 

“This. This is exactly what’s stopping me.” And she sounds so angry, Karen wrings her hands against each other just to keep them from shaking. “An engagement is a contract between two consenting people. And yet, during this entire conversation, not once have you breached the topic of how _you_ feel about any of this.”

And Aurora finally turns to look at her, but it’s with such sharpness that Karen struggles to meet her eyes. 

“I—” she frowns. “I mean— that’s kind of a given, isn’t it?”

Aurora’s brows furrow harshly— she’s so frighteningly beautiful in the shadow of the setting sun, the light carving stark shadows across the panes of her face. “No. It’s not.” 

“Okay, then…” Karen crosses her arms. “I… yes, I would love to marry you, Aurora.”

And still, that doesn’t fix the problem— Aurora just sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you— do you even hear the way you’re saying that?”

Karen digs her nails into her own arm, willing herself not to flinch away. “I don’t know how you want me to sound,” she murmurs at the floor. 

“Like you’re saying it for you, not for me,” she hisses. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Okay, first of all—” Karen squares her shoulders. “It’s not fair that you’re faulting me for things you’re _assuming_ about my tone of voice— and even then, what is so _wrong_ with that?” she demands. “Why is it so awful if I’m saying yes because it’s something that you want, because I love you? I’m obviously not opposed to it—”

“Are you really?” Aurora snaps. “Did you even stop to think about— about being proposed to with a ring that used to belong to someone like that? After— after saying yes like you were _giving in_ to it, can you honestly tell me that you let yourself feel however it made you feel instead of just defaulting to taking care of me?”

“I—” Karen huffs angrily, at a loss. “There was no _defaulting_ involved! You were upset and I responded, because I care about you— are you telling me I can’t do that?”

“I’m telling you it wasn’t the first time you saw me upset and it’s not going to be the last,” she shoots back, the tendons under her jaw going tense and taut. “You should be able to take care of yourself first.”

It’s Karen’s turn to turn and take a few steps away, pushing the hair out of her face forcefully. “Okay, why are you suddenly treating me like some— some helpless, guilt-ridden _damsel_ who can’t say no to you?”

“That’s how you act someti—”

“No it’s _not!”_ Karen whirls around to pin Aurora with a desperate glare. “It is my _conscious_ choice to prioritize your feelings—”

“Why? Why would you ever _choose_ to do that?!”

“Because, for the entire six years I knew you before we died, I treated you like _shit!”_ Karen knows she’s yelling now. “Instead of giving you a clean no like I should have, I— I clung to you, made sure you couldn’t leave me by being cowardly, dishonest, and— and _manipulative,_ quite frankly,” she snaps with as much sardonic bite as possible. “By all rights you should have gotten free of me _years_ ago and found someone worth your time— but by some miracle I get a chance to make things right and I’m not going to squander it by— _sitting_ there and pretending I don’t have anything to answer for!” 

Aurora’s face crumples. _“God_ — do you hear how you’re talking about yourself right now? Like you’re some sort of— criminal with a debt to pay?”

“So _what?”_ Karen says plainly, halfway between sarcastic and defeated.

“So _everything,_ Karen— that’s not— you can’t build a relationship on a mindset of debt and _owing,_ ” Aurora pleads, “and if that’s how you feel, then _we shouldn’t be together!”_

For a split second, it’s like she’s died all over again— a single flash of pain and terror before everything went still. Aurora stares at her, wide-eyed, looking about as stricken as Karen is, slowly, slowly covering her eyes with one hand in the silent and drawn-out moment before collapsing into one of the patio chairs. 

“I’m sorry,” she says shakily. “That wasn’t— I didn’t mean it like—” 

“It’s okay,” Karen blurts out before she gives herself a chance to _be_ okay. Because she feels wrung out and a bit shattered but Aurora’s voice is soft again and so is hers— and she’s desperate to keep it that way. “I know.”

Aurora just shakes her head, eyes shut tight, hands clasped clumsily around the small box as she presses the backs of her thumbs against her mouth. “I was trying not to lash out at you and then I just lost my temper.” She hangs her head and presses her brow against her hands instead. “I’m sorry for— for accusing you of not thinking for yourself. I know it’s hard enough for you to keep your anxiety in check when I shut down like that, nevermind parsing your own feelings about anything. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

Such eloquent, measured words, so soon after her outburst. And isn’t it strange, that Karen falls a little more in love while she’s still nursing a freshly bruised heart? Aurora may not have perfect mastery over her own emotions, but she’s so quick to understand herself and others— to _want_ the best for herself and others, when Karen’s first instinct is to clamp her mouth shut and wait for the fallout to pass for fear of admitting to humiliation. 

Saving face holds no interest for Aurora— she redefines pride as a way to hold herself to higher standards, to accept her weaker moments with _grace._

(God, if ever there was a word to describe her.)

“Thank you,” Karen says, getting it right this time. Because she’s not okay, it’s not okay, but it means something that Aurora took the first step to leading them there and Karen wants her to know that. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that. That got… way out of hand.”

Aurora sighs, and she sounds so tired. “We both escalated much farther than we usually ever do,” she says. “I’m sorry I was so irritable the whole time. I think— I mean, I know it was kind of my fault this time, but I… I think we should have a new rule about this.”

“No serious conversations right after intense sex?” Karen guesses with a light laugh. Aurora’s eyes are still closed, but as she nods she smiles for the first time since this all started and Karen feels like she can _breathe_ again. “Yeah. I think not getting to do our aftercare routine contributed a lot, too.”

“Mhm.” Aurora lets her hands fall forward as she opens her eyes. “We can work out the details later. Right now, I…”

The look she gives Karen is open and searching— Karen knows that look, knows what it means, and tries to hold her breath steady as she confirms. 

“Can I hold you?” she asks, not as confidently as she had hoped. 

“Please.”

And that’s all Karen needs to take rapid steps towards Aurora and wraps her arms around her head while Aurora sighs into her shirt, hugging her waist. It’s a relief to be able to feel her: warm skin, damp hair, steady breathing and heartbeat.

“I’m sorry I got so wound up,” Aurora apologizes again quietly. “I… I’ve been thinking about this for months, ever since I saw Coco selling the box. I’ve always wanted… ugh,” she snorts lightly. “I call myself an ex-catholic but… coming from a big, traditional family, it’s hard to kick old daydreams sometimes.”

“I know,” Karen murmurs into Aurora’s hair, softly scratching the nape of her neck. “You had pretty specific expectations for yourself for most of your childhood. There’s nothing wrong with still wanting the same things.”

“To be clear, I’m not talking about getting married in my mid twenties and having five kids in a picket fence suburb,” she laughs. “I just… well. My relationship with churches is kind of contentious but I’ve never stopped wanting to get married in a huge cathedral with killer acoustics.”

Karen laughs, kissing the top of her head. “You have to admit, they _are_ really nice buildings.”

“Yeah,” Aurora sighs. “White flowers everywhere, live musician playing the organ for the ceremony…” she starts listing. “My fiancee in a beautiful dress and a _conspicuously_ vague idea of what I personally wanted to wear, for obvious reasons.” 

Karen chuckles again, twirling a stray lock of baby hair at the base of Aurora’s hairline while she waits for her to continue.

“I’ve just… always had a really clear picture of what I wanted ever since I was a kid, heirloom ring included. Then I met you, and… you were always in that picture, no matter how many times I tried to fit someone else. I’d try to rearrange it and I would just end up thinking about what kind of dress you’d want to wear. Or suit, or even— even those modern wedding kimonos I saw you looking at, that one summer.”

(It was an uncharacteristically hot June for Japan. They were on a train headed down to the northern shore, where they could take a ferry to the small island town she and Louis had grown up in— she was sitting in the middle of their three-seat row, being the only one who didn’t mind. Louis was at the window seat, knocked out cold from his anti-nausea medicine. Aurora was on the other side, listening to music with her eyes closed. That had been her first major international flight, ever— she was still just struggling from jetlag, or so Karen had thought when she pulled out one of the complimentary magazines that happened to be a wedding catalogue. 

Historically speaking, there’s something rather undesirable about the concept of wearing an ornate white kimono; Karen had always found it stained by ideals of purity that rested on thinly veiled foundations of perceived superiority. But looking at the beautiful, delicate women printed on the glossy pages just then, she couldn’t help but think that they captured the same traditional elegance that was sealed in the old photographs of her own mother. A poised kind of femininity, an inheritance that she could no longer attain.)

“I guess I wasn’t being as subtle as I thought,” she mutters. 

Aurora just laughs softly. “Don’t worry. I chalked it up to wishful thinking and tried to pretend I didn’t see. You know. Except for daydreaming about you in it like a creep.”

 _“Uuhh—”_ Karen grimaces. “Let’s not get into that. I think I solidly beat you out on the creep-o-meter.” 

After all, she was the one who had spent their entire night at the onsen fantasizing about slipping her hands into Aurora’s yukata.

“Oh really?”

“Ahem. You were saying?”

She can feel Aurora grinning into her shirt. “You know, you keep mentioning your alleged creep activities— you’re going to have to tell me about it someday.”

“Yes, someday,” she groans. “Preferably not in the middle of a serious conversation.”

Aurora puffs out another quiet laugh. “Fair.” 

Karen waits while she regathers her words, tracing her finger over the ridge behind her ear. 

“I guess…” she starts, “it frightened me, how much I still wanted all of that, even now. When I saw the ring today, all I could think about was how I wanted to go get it cleaned up and engraved and figure out when I was going to ask you.”

Karen presses her cheek against Aurora’s hair, still stroking her neck and back. “Why was it frightening?”

“Because. I… I wasn’t sure if you would be able to say no. I just…” Aurora holds on tighter. “I worry that part of you feels like you owe me. Anyone would, after everything we’ve been through.”

Aurora’s head is turned to the side— Karen gently untangles herself, taking Aurora’s hands as she lowers herself to her knees between her legs. “Is this about the time we spent in the Crypt?”

“Yes.” Aurora’s eyes are closed, a gently anguished sort of look woven into her features. “I— when you went under, I thought that was it. Projections showed that you’d most likely retain sentience and a vague awareness of events and people inside the cathedral, but… but that you’d lose your memory and sense of self within three years.” Her breath hitches as she says it, and Karen presses soft kisses all over her hands. 

It hadn’t been an easy decision— but then again, had it really been a decision at all? She had been the only candidate who showed any compatibility with the Queen’s Heart. There was hardly any choice left, barely any time to come to terms with it— but it was her cross to bear, and hers alone. She couldn’t let Cruz down a second time.

“The thought of it killed me,” Aurora whispers. “Bad enough that I would never see you again, knowing that you’d stay half-awake forever, alone in your own mind…”

She had put on such a brave face, at the time. Karen took two days to build the Cathedral in the centre of the crater— two days of pouring her ichor into the mistle roots while Aurora murmured to her softly, feeding her packets of blood and holding her when the pain of the endeavor became too much. 

And, when it was time, she was there still— smiling for Karen as she took the last breaths of her waking life. 

“Is that why you volunteered?” Karen murmurs against her knuckles. 

Aurora nods. “It was pure luck that I tested with high compatibility. I probably would have tried to find a way to do it, even if I hadn’t— I couldn’t leave you there alone.” She leans into Karen’s hand when she cradles her face. “Even if you forgot who I was, even if _I_ forgot who I was, as long as you knew that someone was there with you— there _for_ you, that there was another living entity that cared about you, that would’ve been enough. That… that was how I wanted to die.” Her voice shakes, and Karen leans forward to touch their foreheads together, feeling her own chest go tight. “Had I known that we’d make it out of there alive, I… I still would have done it but— god, I would have _talked_ to you first, made sure we had an understanding—”

She cuts off with a shaky breath, and Karen brings her other hand up to hold her face with both of them. 

“So this is why you didn’t want to talk about it,” she murmurs, brushing her thumbs over Aurora’s cheekbones. 

One would think it’d warrant a conversation or two, but Aurora had gone to such lengths to minimize it or change the topic that Karen stopped bringing it up. It was understandable, she had thought— to call it a traumatizing period of time would have been an understatement and Karen knew that it wasn’t her place to pry open and share _all_ of Aurora’s burdens no matter how much she wanted to. 

In hindsight, she’s not sure why it didn’t occur to her that Aurora was trying to protect Karen, not herself. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice cracking with the effort of it. “I know that I should have, but I— I was scared of acknowledging it in the first place.” Karen can feel her shaking. “The fact that I gave up my life so I could spend the rest of it for you— I don’t regret it and I would do it again but it’s too much.” And she sounds so brittle, right now, tears dewing at her eyelashes. “It’s too much pressure to put on a relationship outside of a life and death context and maintain any kind of— of balance, and… and when I see you going out of your way to give me everything I want, everything I would ever ask for, it— it _scares_ me,” she says in a harsh whisper as a tear runs into Karen’s hand. “It scares me so much.”

And what is there to say to that? She’s right— she’s right, and it’s important, but somehow Karen doesn’t feel that it is. She tilts her chin up to kiss Aurora, wanting to calm her, trying to gather her feelings into something half as coherent as everything Aurora’s given her so far.

“Thank you for telling me,” she murmurs. “I… understand. I know why you did what you did and why you feel this way— and it means a lot to me. I wish…” she bumbles, trying to find her next train of thought. “I wish I knew what to say to make you less afraid. I never… I never felt _guilty_ that you became a Successor to stay with me. Maybe I’m too selfish to.”

“Karen…”

“I know— I know you don’t like it when I say that kind of thing about myself, but please— hear me out, okay?” she tucks Aurora’s loose hair behind her ears, caressing her face. “I… I remember you. I remember knowing you were with me, and how warm it made me feel. I remember hearing you struggle with how much pain you were in and wishing I could do something, _anything_ to help you, to be there for you like you were for me. And— yes, it hurts to know that you suffered alone for ten years— but it hurts because I care about you. It doesn’t make me feel guilty or obligated, even though maybe it should. It just… it just makes me feel loved.”

When she looks up, Aurora has opened her eyes, staring down at her with such storminess. Karen presses another kiss to her face before continuing.

“And— I get mad at myself for how I treated you before we died because you deserved so much better. You were nothing but kind and caring and I wanted to keep you without giving you any of myself in return and it was just so… cowardly and despicable, and I…”

Aurora just shakes her head. “You had a lot going on. You’ve always had a lot going on. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”

“But that’s the worst part,” Karen says in a rushing exhale. “I didn’t— I didn’t even get to choose. I’m a product of everything that’s happened to me— of my mother dying before I got to know her enough to remember her, of my dad dying when he was all that Louis and I had left, of my aunt taking things away from me every time I wasn’t perfect the way she wanted me to be, of—” and she stumbles here like she always does even though she’s had decades of practice— “of people touching and hurting me when they had no right to.”

Aurora gently holds her wrists, then, wanting to anchor her as always. “None of that was your fault,” she reminds Karen, leaning into her hands.

“I know. But it was—” she sighs. “It was my responsibility not to let it hurt anyone else in my life, to not let it keep me from being able to let people in. And I fucked it up so _bad,_ even when you did everything you could for me. But you still chose to be there for me, every time, and I— I just want to live up to that.”

And there— finally, after all her meandering, she finally arrives at the truth of what she wanted to say. 

“It’s not guilt, or obligation,” she continues, emboldened. “It’s not that I feel that I owe you— it’s that I see how much faith you have in me, how much you care about me, and it means _so_ much to me.” Her breath stutters, and she stops to swallow back the clumsy tears before pressing on. “It means everything to me that you’ve stood by me even when I didn’t deserve it— and I just want to show you that. I want to— to honor all the time and effort and _love_ you’ve given me by being the best person I could possibly be, for you _and_ for me. By letting myself be honest and happy the way I decided I couldn’t be, all those years ago.”

And Aurora’s crying, a little bit— which is kind of hard to see because she’s so beautiful like this, delicate features crumpled, blue eyes wavering to a turbulent grey in the dusklight, it’s making her want to cry even more. But she can’t. She’s not done yet. 

“I’m not always going to be good at it— you’re right, I _do_ try too hard sometimes to make everything perfect for you at my expense, even when I know that’s not what you want. And I can’t promise that I won’t slip up because god knows I’m not… the most self-loving person, I can barely tolerate myself some days— but I’m going to try. I’m going to try and be someone you can trust to— to be able to say no and stand up for myself and _live_ for myself. So if…" she swallows, rolling to a stop upon her gentle epiphany. Taking a breath, she carefully reaches for the hand that Aurora's holding the box with. "If you'd let me do the honors…"

It takes Aurora a few moments to realize what she's asking— eyes wide, she slowly opens her palm and lets the box fall into Karen's waiting hand.

"This is probably a little anticlimactic because I'm already on my knees," she chuckles, "sorry. But, uhm… here goes." She clears her throat and holds one of Aurora's hands with the box in her other. "Aurora— For the past twenty one years, you have been my best friend and protector, through sickness, death, and the end of the world,” she says with measured tones, looking straight into the rainy sky contained in Aurora’s eyes. “Though I have been a— a selfish, guarded person, it was your never-ending faith in me that inspired me to become more than what the world has made me. And by some miracle, I have been blessed with both the opportunity and the _courage_ to love you to the fullest that my heart is capable of, and I— I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity doing just that.”

She stops to take a breath as Aurora’s eyes brim with droplets threatening to fall. It wouldn’t do for her to falter now— she inhales deeply, clearing the tightness in her throat as she quickly swipes her own unshed tears on her t-shirt sleeves. A quick, small laugh at her own expense, and then she steels herself to continue.

“So, if you would forgive me one last selfishness—” grasping the box with both hands, she wills herself to open it in as steady a motion as she could manage. “Aurora Valentino, may I ask you to marry me?” 

There’s a very specific way that Aurora cries, sometimes— both hands clasped over her mouth, a flush that seeps across her face and neck like a drop of paint upon water, her body shaking with the force of her contained breaths as she is so silently overwhelmed. She cranes towards Karen, tears dripping from her face in slow but haphazard beats— Karen takes one hand off the box to rub the top of Aurora’s thigh, smiling.

“I need a confirmation, baby,” she laughs quietly, “could you say yes or no for me?”

And at that, she nods rapidly, clumsily— breaking into heaving breaths as she tries to form words.

“Y-yes,” she gasps out into her hands, shaking. “Yes, yes I—”

She stops, squeezing her eyes shut, and Karen takes that as her queue to finally take the ring from the box.

“Can I borrow your hand?” she coaxes, gently reaching for Aurora’s left wrist. Aurora acquiesces, and Karen gingerly holds her palm face down as she carefully, carefully slots the ring over her fourth finger, taking extra care to keep the jagged edges of where the diamond used to be from scratching her. 

“Would you look at that,” she breathes when she finishes. “It’s a perfect fit.”

As if it was goddamn meant to be. And isn’t that funny? That they’re here together, with the torn-up ruins of the world stretching onto the horizon, with the blood of all the blameless people they failed to save on their hands and the weight of the future on their shoulders— 

Aurora collapses into her and she closes her fiancée into a tight embrace while pressing kisses to her temple. They’re here together, swathed in the twilight of another day in their afterlives, somehow finding a fairytale moment held between their still-beating hearts.

* * *

“Do you think we could ask Eva and Mia to play for us during the wedding?”

Aurora blinks as she looks up from her slightly tattered planner. “Mia can play music?”

“Mhm. She used to be a classical pianist— spent a lot of time playing accompaniment for the vocal students at her mother’s academy too.” Karen hums as she scribbles down yet another draft of their announcement cards. “Oh— actually, I think Eva went to the same school. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew each other.”

“Huh. Small world.” Aurora blinks thoughtfully before getting back to her planner with a grimace. “Maybe, but that’s for the wedding. We still have to figure out the engagement party. Ugh.” She looks over at Karen with a pleading pout. “Are you sure we have to have one at all?”

Karen just laughs. “Normally I’d leave it up to you, but we happen to have the misfortune of being two key political figures in what’s left of civilization. It wouldn’t be proper for us to deny other would-be important people a chance to strut and try to curry our favor.”

“Ugh,” Aurora groans yet again. “I forgot how much of a _pain_ this all is. We have to somehow figure out catering for the human guests, right? And figure out a way to get enough alcohol for everyone? God. _Catering,”_ she grumbles. “It’s been fifteen years since the world ended and here we are, worrying about _catering.”_

Karen snorts. “You are _so_ upset about all this,” she teases. “It’s fine. If Yakumo and Louis can pull off a successful New Years Eve party, we can handle a little engagement.”

“Oh, no, don’t tell me this is a matter of sibling competition now.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she says with a noncommittal smile, and Aurora sighs.

“I guess we’d better figure out how to get Mia on our side, then.”

Karen quirks a brow. “Why’s that?”

“She’s the best tracker we know. And if we can grab a few maps off Cerberus, she can probably find us a storeroom from one of the fancier liquor boutiques around town— and Coco probably has a few contacts with human suppliers that we could ask for…” 

She trails off, immersed in her planning as she flips to a fresh page and starts scribbling down all her ideas— her elegant handwriting getting no less legible for how fast she’s writing, unlike Karen’s chicken scratch. So intent, suddenly, on helping Karen win an unspoken, banal contest of pride— glasses slipping down her nose and silver ring glinting on her finger, all cleaned up and waiting to be engraved.

(They haven’t quite decided on what just yet. Karen thinks it’s traditional to simply get their names carved in, but Aurora wants to get a little more poetic, so who is she to disagree? So she contentedly waits for Aurora to come up with something stunningly fitting, as she always does.)

“You’re staring.”

Karen glances at Aurora’s mildly inquisitive look. “Don’t I always?”

Aurora snorts, looking back down at her work. “Usually when I’m naked. Not sure what’s caught your attention now.”

Karen almost takes offense, but she’s right, in all fairness— she’s usually much more subtle about her staring when she’s not openly ogling for Aurora to see. 

She puts her pen down and reaches across the table to grasp Aurora’s left hand, pulling it close to press a kiss to the knuckle of her ring finger. 

“Am I not allowed to admire my bride-to-be?” she says softly, lacing their fingers together. 

And despite the fact that she’s taken literally every opportunity to call Aurora some variation of ‘fiancée’ or ‘future wife’, it still manages to get her an endearingly embarrassed reaction. Karen indulges in watching her soft blush bloom behind her freckles like nebulas enveloping stars. 

Still, she does let her eyes trail over the straps of Aurora’s tank top. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, though…”

“Oh my god.” Aurora throws her hand back at her, rolling her eyes with a laugh. “You’re _such_ a horndog.”

Guilty as charged. “Would you like me to back off, or are you just teasing me?”

“Just teasing,” she says, pushing her glasses up. “But if you’re trying to seduce me, you’re going to have to try harder.”

And, oh, she _does_ love when Aurora plays a little hard to get— it’s just that much more satisfying when she manages to get Aurora worked up and begging for her to go harder by the end of the night.

“I _can’t_ believe you just perked up like a puppy being offered a treat,” Aurora says, laughing again as she closes her planner and rises from her seat. “Alright then, _Doctor,_ give it your best shot.”

And then she leaves the room, running a hand through her hair because she _knows_ Karen loves the way it cascades behind her as she walks. Karen watches her go, biting down on her lip. Engagement party be damned— her fiancée is in _such_ a playful mood and she’s so excited she might be a little lightheaded, actually. 

It’s like a punch in the navel that zings through her nerves when she hears the creak of their makeshift shower nozzle go off. Possibilities and plans run through her mind— a bit of shower fondling to get her nice and flustered, letting her pick a strap, maybe even handcuffs if she’s feeling it, pulling on her hair while railing her the way that she likes—

Oh, today’s gonna be a good day.

The thought mellows out her giddiness for a moment. Yes, today’s going to be a good day— today, and tomorrow, and every new day that she’ll be lucky enough to live through, because she gets to spend it loving her fiancée. Her soon to be wife. 

And that warrants being a little lovestruck over, doesn’t it? They’re not soulmates by any stretch of the definition— in another universe where the world never ended, Aurora is happily married to someone who had known their own heart well enough to give it away, and Karen is still embarking on the lifelong endeavour to learn to live with her own imperfections.

No, they weren’t meant for each other— but Aurora has consistently _chosen_ to be with her, at every juncture of their lives, and maybe that means something more. Now she gets to choose Aurora, to explore and fall in love with every new, evolving part of her that she’ll be lucky enough to meet, and god— 

She can’t wait. 

“You know how I get sleepy when I stand in hot water for too long?” comes the muffled call through the cracked walls. “You _might_ wanna hurry.”

Oh, but she shouldn’t keep Aurora waiting, should she? It takes all the coordination she has not to trip on her way out of her chair and into the hallway, scrambling towards the bathroom door while unbuttoning her shirt as quickly as possible. 

“Hold on, I’m on—” she kicks her slippers off, pulling at her skirt’s zipper— “my way!”

Or, at least, she’s trying to be— the stupid zipper’s being difficult because of _course_ it is. She hops a bit, trying to pry it free from whatever it’s jammed against— the bathroom door is _right_ there and her _plan_ is to open it while just in her stockings and underwear because she’s serendipitously wearing a very nice set today—

She yelps as she trips and falls on her ass against the doorframe instead. 

The shower stops. “Did you get stuck in your skirt again?”

“No,” she huffs indignantly, still intent on her sexy entrance for a few seconds before giving it up. “... maybe. Yes.”

The door opens, and _god_ that’s one hell of a view: wet hair tied back in a loose bun, glasses off to show long lashes in full view, a quirked brow while being _exquisitely_ naked and svelte as she looks down at Karen.

“Uh…” Karen does another once-over, then another. Her dick's _so_ close to face height and she _wants._ “Hi.”

Aurora just rolls her eyes as she crouches down, swatting Karen's hands away from the zipper to do it herself. “Let me guess, you were trying to do your femme fatale catwalk in your lingerie.”

“Yes,” Karen grumbles, watching Aurora deftly start to wiggle the zipper down. 

“But you’re here on your ass, barely halfway out of your clothes, because you were too horny and it made you _this_ clumsy.”

Karen pouts. “Come on, at least tell me you find it cute…?”

Aurora snorts as she pulls the zipper free with one last yank, finally freeing Karen from the tight skirt. “Yes, yes, it’s adorable and I love you very much.” She cups Karen’s cheeks, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. “Now come on, I’m cold,” she laughs, pulling Karen to her feet.

Karen, for her part, manages to push her skirt off on the way before shrugging out of her shirt once she’s standing. “There’s a comment about warming you up somewhere but I don’t trust myself to stick the delivery right now.”

“I appreciate the intention,” Aurora says with a comforting smile, tossing the shirt into their laundry basket. “You can’t be perfect _all_ the time.”

The implication that Aurora finds her perfect _most_ of the time makes her a little emotional and a _lot_ turned on. “Can’t blame me for trying,” she says, trying to keep her voice even as she unclasps her bra and tosses that too. “My girl deserves the best.”

“Okay, Casanova.” Aurora tugs at her hands. “Enough flattery, let’s get going.”

And how could she object to that? Karen happily obliges, closing the door with a click.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway this happens sometime between the first and second chapters of the mia/io fic?? if you're following that at all sdvsfd


End file.
